


(drabble) (gw) Dead Man's Walk (angst, deathfic, R)

by windsorblue



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-28
Updated: 2006-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-15 06:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windsorblue/pseuds/windsorblue





	(drabble) (gw) Dead Man's Walk (angst, deathfic, R)

  
  
  
  
**Entry tags:**   
|   
[angst](http://postwarmiracles.livejournal.com/tag/angst), [drabbles](http://postwarmiracles.livejournal.com/tag/drabbles), [gw](http://postwarmiracles.livejournal.com/tag/gw), [prison-verse](http://postwarmiracles.livejournal.com/tag/prison-verse), [quatre](http://postwarmiracles.livejournal.com/tag/quatre), [r](http://postwarmiracles.livejournal.com/tag/r)  
  
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_**(drabble) (gw) Dead Man's Walk (angst, deathfic, R)**_  
written for [](http://thejennabides.livejournal.com/profile)[**thejennabides**](http://thejennabides.livejournal.com/)

It wasn't so different from any other walk; one foot in front of the other - one step two step three step four - and as long as he could count his steps, he could keep walking, keep moving, ever-forward.

When they came for him, he'd been praying for the first time. He'd been reciting the prayers Rashid had taught him long ago in a whisper-breath, even though he didn't really believe in them. Allah, Jehovah, Jesus - none of them had ever lit the way for him, but he thought maybe now, one of them might.

He had been praying for Relena, for Heero, and for Wufei. He had been praying for Trowa; for Trowa most of all. He had been praying that Trowa would be okay without him.

It was seventy-three steps from his cell to the electric chair. They sat him down and strapped him in; they read his conviction and his sentence and asked him if he had any last words. And all the things he'd thought about saying - the things he'd been up all night thinking about saying - they all seemed stupid to him now; pointless, meaningless. So instead, he shook his head and said nothing.

They put the hood over his head - his death was supposed to be clean, cathartic - it wasn't supposed to scare the witnesses, the viewers, the public; it wasn't supposed to make them think. In the hood's darkness, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Trowa." And even though he couldn't see anyway, he still closed his eyes.


End file.
